


Après

by Izzyface



Category: Homeland
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 18:06:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5794447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izzyface/pseuds/Izzyface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 5x12. Quinn is awake. Carrie is a bundle of nervous mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Après

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at fanfic in a long time. I was doing a training for work and it wouldn't leave me alone, so here it is... I don't know if I got their voices right or not. I think it's possible there could be more (not to this, as it's clearly a stand-alone, but maybe in a series?) but it depends on how reception/my work schedule goes. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope I didn't butcher them too badly.

From where Carrie Mathison was sitting, the Incident had a huge upside that no one was acknowledging. Quinn could no longer be a ‘guy’ for Dar Adal. He would no longer disappear for days, weeks, or even years on end with nothing but maybe a letter to tell her goodbye. Almost three years ago she’d been a day too late to tell him yes, she knew he could handle her crazy shit. After thinking he had died, there was no way she was going to let this go on any longer. Other than Maggie, Quinn was the only person she could count on to never let her down. It was time she started being that for him. 

Since he woke up in the hospital thirty-seven days ago, she’d barely left his side. Carrie watched as he struggled with his words and emotions; she tried not to hover as he used the walker to slowly make his way to the bathroom to relieve himself; and when she could feel the rage rolling off of him she wanted to run away. She blamed herself. Jonas’ words that Quinn was dying echoed in her head, but still she hadn’t gone to look for him. Caught between finding the spy and saving her friend, she’d chosen the spy. No one blamed her, and the CIA was offering her any desk she wanted if she would return to work. However, no one seemed to understand that if Quinn were in her shoes, he would have let the whole damn world burn in an effort to save her. While he was dark and hard and broken, he was still better than she deserved. 

The time had come for them to return to the US. He was finally stable enough to travel and their government wanted him transferred to Walter Reed in D.C., so they made the arrangements and informed his doctors. Carrie was ready to see Franny and her sister, but knew returning stateside would bring up more issues between them. Quinn was just now starting to talk to her, and it was nothing like before. Once he was in D.C. she would have no reason to stay with him all the time, either. She would need to go home, be with Franny, and look for a job. Quinn had other friends who he might want around… 

All of this was on her mind three days before they were set to leave. While he was at an OT session in the hospital, she was half-heartedly looking for a job on her iPad. He would be back soon, along with the slim, auburn-haired nurse who took him out on these days. Carrie was trying not to think about the way he made small talk with her, compared to how stilted their conversations were. Or how he had no trouble communicating with Astrid, either. His ex-girlfriend was coming by tonight with dinner for the three of them before she left tomorrow for an assignment in Paris. 

Not that Astrid bothered her the way she used to. It was clear they were over and both had moved on with their lives. The blond German cared for Quinn, but it was no longer in a sexual way. Carrie was glad he had people who looked after him, since he wasn’t the best at self-risk-assessment. 

The door swung open automatically and the pretty nurse pushed his wheelchair in. Carrie bit her lip, because she knew he hated that chair and much preferred the walker. Once he was about two feet from the bed, he stopped her and started to prepare to lift himself up out of the chair and into the bed. The other woman reached to help him, but Quinn shrugged her off. “I got it.” As he stood on shaky legs, she pulled the chair back to catch him. He held out his hands to balance himself and took slow measured shuffles to the bed. His nervous system was still recovering and his muscles didn’t always cooperate, but he knew he could do this. He _had_ to do this. 

Carrie stood and silently reached for him, offering a hand in support. She’d never done that before, but then again he’d always let Bridgette help him back to his bed. Quinn wasn’t sure if he wanted Carrie’s help, but knew he couldn’t keep pushing her away like he had for the last month. He put his weak left hand into hers and let her pull him into the bed. Once he was lying down, she dismissed Bridgette, and then started fussing over his blankets. In three days they were going home, so maybe it was time they talked. “Carrie?” 

“Hmmm?” She smoothed the blankets over his feet. “You need something?” 

“Sit down. We should talk.” 

Those words were like ice down her spine. How many times had she heard them in her life? Despite wanting to say no, she took the seat next to him and forced her eyes to his. If he… If he didn’t love her anymore, she could accept that. At least he was alive. “What’s up?” 

“The therapist today said I’d likely never regain full nerve function of my hands.” He held them both up to show the tremors. “Even with more therapy or surgery, he feels the best I can hope for is 80 to 90 percent, but maybe even as low as 75 percent.” 

“What does that mean?” 

Quinn blew out a deep breath. “I don’t know yet,” he answered. “I haven’t talked to anyone at the agency, but it probably means no more work. I guess it’s my real chance to get out.” 

“Out out?” 

He nodded. “Probably the best one I’ll ever get. Dar will have to let me go. I can’t go and do anymore…” He trailed off, thinking of the things he’d done for that man. “I can’t shoot if my hands shake.” 

“But there’s other things you can do,” Carried offered. “Be an analyst, work terrorism, put in to become a station chief.” 

“After the shit you went through in Islamabad? No fucking thanks.” He studied his hands, never realizing before how much of his livelihood depended on them. “What are you going to do? Planning to stay here?” 

“No. Saul wants me back and Abrams has offered me any station I want, but I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I think I’d really like something normal. I miss Franny and my sister and my dad. I just want to go home and… be normal.”

“Normal? What’s normal for you?” 

Carrie smiled at his smile. She hadn’t seen it in weeks, at least not directed at her. “Who knows? I had it here for a little while, with Jonas. I thought he loved me, and I think he loved normal me. But you know there’s a big part of me that is a fucking pile of shit.” 

“I know.” Quinn could remember, in detail, their conversation from three years ago, where they discussed her crazy. He’d seen her at her worst, and loved her anyway. Despite going to hell on Earth in Syria he still felt that way. “So you and Franny?” 

“I came back, you know?” she asked him. “After we got off the phone that night, I saw Mom and found out it wasn’t my dad, it was her. She was the reason she left. So I called you to tell you yes, but your phone service was already disconnected. I called Dar, then. When he didn’t answer me, I went to his house and tried to blackmail him about Haqqani. That’s when I found out Saul was in on it the entire time and decided I had to get out.” Carrie exhaled and refocused on Quinn. His eyes had widened as she spoke. “So I came back for you, so I could tell you yes, I wanted to try. I’ve loved you every day for three years. I’ve been shitty at showing it, but it’s about time you know.” 

“Carrie—“

“No,” she interrupted. “Don’t. Think about it.” 

“Okay.” 

“Just, I wanted to give you the option. I wanted you to know. When I say I want normal, I mean I want normal with you, John, Peter, whatever your name is... I don’t care about your hand, or what you’re going to do, I just want to be with you and Franny.” 

Peter Quinn didn’t have to think about anything, he already knew his answer. He’d known for some time that she was his only choice. Their eyes locked and he carefully lifted his nerve-damaged hand to her cheek. “I’ll never be the man I was before.” 

“None of that matters to me.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely.” 

His eyes filled with tears, but he only felt happiness. “Then yes. You, Franny, and me. Let’s be a family.”


End file.
